


One True Love

by MukeAF (ZarryFTZouis)



Series: Muke as FUCK [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Luke, M/M, No Lube, Prince Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/MukeAF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if one true love is the only one that you get?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One True Love

_“You’re… well, Prince Michael…”_

_“Just say it, tutor,” Michael was a curious child ever since he was, well, a child. “I want to know!”_

_“Your parents, King Daryl and Queen Karen wanted me to tell you why you have such strict bed time,” Ashton, now Michael’s least favourite person, informs him. “After two hours after dusk, you turn into a girl.”_

_“Ashy, if this your idea of a joke, you’re doing a great job!” Michael giggles. “Wait, you’re serious.”_

_“For your own safety, we shall move you to a tower northwest of the castle,” Ashton’s hazel eyes darken. “I’m sorry, Prince Michael.”_

And it’s been ten gruesome years of solitude, throwing rocks at the walls and whatnot. Every morning, there’s a mini-table full of breakfast waiting for him in his chamber at the tower, and at noon, same thing, except it’s, you know, lunch, and so on. There’s a really tall (Michael suspects it was enchanted) apple tree just within his reach so there’s his snacks.

 

 _“One more thing_ ,” his old tutor, Ashton, told him as Michael heard the click of the lock. “ _Your hair seems to be bewitched… In form of changing colours according to your moods_.”

 

Ashton was right, sadly, and if he were to look into a mirror, Michael would see foamy light blue since he’s frustrated.

 

“I am the Prince of Ichenheim!” Michael shouts into the darkening sky. “Son of King Daryl the Dragon Slayer and Queen Karen! I should be allowed out of this fucking tower by my own birthright!”

 

If anyone heard his indignation, there isn’t any sign.

 

-

 

Luke was a rebel ever since he was—he can’t quite remember—around the age of seven. He stole his first item at that age and it wasn’t accidental. He left his home and started going around the world with a group of bandits until they got caught ten years later. Being associated with renowned thieves and all, he’s on the run now.

It’s late and his legs are screaming at him to rest for the night. Not hearing anyone within range, Luke walks towards the tall tower near him.

And of course, given his luck at the moment, it’s fucking locked.

“Need I use my thievery skills everywhere?” Luke groans, taking out a silver pin he smuggled from his former partner in crime. He picks the lock open with ease and walks into the tower.

 

“Holy shit,” Luke summarises how he feels, greeted by dozens of flights up—leading to where though? Are the kingdoms really that out of ideas to lock everyone up a tower now? Wow. “At least there isn’t a dragon.”

 

As if on cue, a black ball of fur lunges itself at him, startling him. After a few seconds, he realises it’s a little kitten.

“Aw!” Luke rubs his nose against the black kitten, who swipes its paw at Luke’s chest. He lifts the thing to check the gender. “A boy, oh well. If you’re in a rut cycle, mister, I will throw you out of the tower at the top.”

A blink.

 

-

 

Luke doesn’t know why, but he feels compelled to keep walking up the stairs towards the top. Who knows, maybe there’s a pretty princess worth rescuing and he will be pardoned of his crimes.

“Meow?” The kitten cocks his head to the side.

“Yes, Kitty, I think we’re near the top too,” Luke yawns as he takes the final bite out of the apple he got from a tree at the entrance to the tower. “And no, I’m not sharing the apple with you.”

 

Luke giggles at the sight of Kitty’s fur fluffing out from anger. Wait, did he actually understand Luke’s words? Are things enchanted here?

 

He uses the pin, again, to open the door.

“Well, nothing to see–”

His age-old reflexes keeps Luke from being whacked in the head with a wooden club.

 

“Has anyone told you violence is not the answer?” Luke growls at his attacker, turning around to— _woah_.

 

The girl has fair hair that’s shoulder-length, a cute combination, and to his surprise, she’s wearing trousers that somehow fit her and blouse that’s tad bit long and loose on her.

 

“Fuck, you came here when I was about to change!” The girl’s voice is on the lower side (Luke isn’t an expert on the vocal ranges but he can guess) and did she just swear? “But I must ask, stranger, what brings you here?” The way she speaks, there’s so much regality there.

“I’m a traveller and I thought most girls locked up in towers wanted to be rescued?” Luke doesn’t know if he has to bow or not. “Lucas Hemmings, my lady.”

“Prince…ess Michaela,” _did she just stammer over her own name?_ “And like I said, I was getting changed.”

“From a man’s attire?” Luke arches a brow. “Why, may I ask?”

“Oh, you’ll find out in the morning,” the princess grins, her hair getting darker in hue. _Wait, what?_ “Fuck, is my hair changing colours? Don’t bother.” She prods her dainty fingers at Luke’s lips before he can reply. “I hate being enchanted.”

 

Kitty makes a sound that can be disguised from laughing.

 

-

 

Michael wakes up to warmth pressed to his body.

_Strange, Ashton stopped giving me cuddles when I was eight…_

He wakes up with a shriek when he discovers the body snuggled up to him was Lucas, his (her?) saviour from last night.

 

“What? Why? Huh?” Lucas wakes up with a dazed visage, then his gaze falls upon Michael. “Who are you?”

“Oh, this is why I hate people,” Michael grumbles. _Oh shit, I’m wearing a fucking dress._ “Take a guess… Lucas.”

“This is what you meant by _enchanted_?” Lucas looks more sleepy than surprised though. “Awesome. What’s your name? Michael?”

“That’s _Prince_ Michael for you,” Michael shucks his dress off and chooses a fresh set of clothes from his closet. “Breakfast should be at the centre of… Lucas?”

 

Lucas is proper flushed from his cheeks, down to his Adam’s apple. Huh, what a strange reaction.

 

“You just stripped in front of me!” Lucas states to obvious. _Some heroes these days_. “Don’t Princes have more dignity to _not_ do that?”

“Oh please, we’re both blokes,” Michael walks over to where the table is set at and plops down. “You didn’t tell me Calum was here!” Michael picks up the black kitten. “Hello, kitty, what do you want?”

“That menace has a name,” Lucas seems to have calmed down. “What next, you named this tower?”

“Oh hush, I will have you hung publically if you keep up with your attitude,” Michael jokes as he picks up a toast. He does notice the morose expression on his human companion’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Do you want to explore the world with me?”

 

-

 

“Do you want to explore the world with me?” Luke suggests the Prince/Princess. “You’ve been cooped up in this tower for a long time, by the looks of it, so why not come with me?”

“Why should I have any faith in you that you won’t sell me to someone? Like an evil witch or some sort of slaver?”

 

Luke sighs and rolls his sleeve up, showing the mark.

 

“You’re branded as a criminal?” Michael shrieks, his hair a vibrant shade of red. _What wouldn’t I do to feel that against my bollocks?_

“Why does your hair change colours?”

“Magic,” Michael’s hair is now the colour of the gemstone turquoise. “Each colour represents an emotion.”

“Red has to mean anger,” Luke hums, threading his fingers in the surprisingly silky part of Michael’s body. “What colour is love?”

 

The nice _thwack_ of the wooden club answers nicely.

 

“Ouch?” Luke can tell Michael hadn’t the proper time to wield weapons, otherwise, he’d be knocked out cold. “Prince Michael, you might want to start taking fighting lessons ‘cause that was pathetic.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I totally meant to get locked up in this goddamn tower for last decade or so by choice,” the vibrancy of the red his colour is in is flaming, Luke knows he has to intervene somehow.

 

So, like any good person would do, he presses his lips to Michael’s.

 

-

 

Michael is equally as furious as he is surprised when Lucas kisses him. In all eighteen years of his life, no one dared to kiss him (the factor of him being in a tower may have played a key role in that) so this was a nice surprise. Common sense told him to lean in and deepen the kiss, but he really isn’t in the mood for romances.

 

“Ow!” Lucas yelps when Michael bites his lower lip. “Kinky, but what the hell? Ooh, your hair’s a nice shade of purple, didya know that?”

 

Michael replies with a glare.

 

“Red – anger, turquoise – something along the line of embarrassment, and purple – surprise or being upset?” Lucas rubs at his lip. “And why do you change into a gal at night?”

“I was cursed by some witch, don’t you think that’s the case?” Michael raises his club. “What brings you here?”

“I’m a bandit, I was looking for a place to hide by,” Lucas shrugs like it’s normal to say. “I picked my fate the day I stole necklace.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“About ten years ago,” Lucas hums as he saunters over to the window and picks up and apple. “Don’t you want to get out of this hellhole?”

“This place has been protecting me from intruders like you for a long while,” Michael huffs. “Why should I listen to you?”

“I can promise you a whole new world, Prince Michael,” Lucas extends his hand. “I will show you how vast this world is.”

 

-

 

Michael looks hesitant as he studies Luke’s hand for five minutes. If he says no, Luke’s plan won’t work at all.

 

“What’s the catch?” Michael asks after what feels like an eternity. “Surely you wouldn’t take me to dangerous places without some payment.”

“Protection,” Luke giggles. “You now know I’m wanted, so if we are to come across any law enforcements, you’ll get me out.”

“Fine.”

 

 

Michael produces a large bag out of the closet, earning a growl from Calum the Kitty. His amber eyes narrow considerably, like he wants to warn Michael against setting off with Luke.

 

“One more thing,” Michael holds out one dainty finger; Luke arches a brow. “Calum is coming with us.”

“What can a pussycat do for us?” He yelps when Calum claws at his balls. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your precious pet with us.”

“He can hunt on his own, has been for a while,” Michael shrugs, struggling with a blue shirt. “Ugh, if I had servants, they’d be dressing me!”

“Allow me, Prince Michael,” Luke manages to say without a giggle fit. His throat tightens at their proximity, but he does his task without acquiring a boner. “So, how did you survive last ten years up here?”

“Trial and error,” Michael looks pleased. Kind of. “It’s not like I had someone to tell me _how_ but I got the gist of it.”

“Interesting vocabulary there, Prince Michael,” Luke tries not to sound so dickish. He wants his balls to survive until he has children. “So how do we get out of here? I doubt the lock is undoable from the inside…”

“We scale down the tower, what else?”

 

-

 

Now _that_ was the worst Michael has ever come up with. He knows that it’s nearly suicidal, the tower being more than fifty metres tall and that kind of shit. He isn’t an experienced climber either, so it’s really, _really_ risky.

 

“Any other brill idea?” Lucas chokes on his laughter. “I used the _stairs_ and thought I was going to die.”

“Lucas–”

“Please call me Luke, sire.”

“Luke,” Michael scowls at his non-trusty companion, briefly wondering what the colour of his hair is. “I doubt you can magically summon a fire-breathing dragon to burn the door down.

 

Calum makes a weird sound.

 

“Hey kitty,” Luke makes a disgusting tone of sound. “Want to help us by turning into a dragon?”

 

Michael scoffs at the attempt.

 

Amber-eyed glare is the response from the feline creature.

 

“There should be big enough grooves on the tower for us to scale down the side,” Michael slings the rucksack over his shoulder. “Let’s go!”

“You seem so eager to get out of this place,” Luke makes sure his dagger is still strapped to his waist. “Aren’t you protected up here?”

“Eh, like you said, been cooped up here for years and years,” Michael straddles the windowsill. “Now, how do I get down?”

 

If not for the adorable expression on his face and golden-blond hair he was donning, Luke would’ve laughed. He slinks his arm around Michael and leans in to whisper a word to the prince.

 

“Relax,” he tries to ignore how his lips accidentally (totally not accidentally) touch Michael’s ear shell.

“We’re a lot of metres above-ground and you’re telling me to relax?” Michael growls back. “What kind of shit logic is that?”

“The kind that makes it possible for you to know shit-tonne of swear words when you’ve been locked up here for ‘your own safety’,” Luke rolls his eyes. “Now, shut it for a bit and let the pro show you how to get out of places.”

 

-

 

Michael knows well enough that his face is beet-red and his hair is probably yellow from sickness.

 

Yup. Ten years of imprisonment in a rather tall tower, and he’s height fears.

 

During the first couple of years at the tower, he didn’t realise it, due to the lack of people he could talk to, but it was self-explanatory. He’d go as bad as throwing up when near the window, the only source of viewing the outside world, and sometimes, walking around would make him sick, again.

 

He’s trying his damnedest hard to hide his fear of height from Luke. If found out, the blond bloke might reconsider his idea and find out what really is up with Calum.

 

“Kitty, you go down first,” Luke coos at the animal, who unsheathes his claws at his supposed rescuer. Some temper he’s got, jeesh. “Your pet sucks balls… Figuratively speaking.”

“He can hear you too,” Michael rolls his eyes. “Don’t I need ropes to steady me and shit?”

“We’re on low budget, so it’s free-style,” Luke shakes his head. “By the way, blond hair suits you.”

 

He knows his face flushed to a darker shade of red.

 

“Aw, is Mikey embarrassed?” Luke croons, he fucking _crooned_ at the crowed Prince of Ichenheim, and gave him an absurd nickname. “Let’s just get down.”

 

_Thirty minutes later_

 

“My fingernails are ruined!” Michael complains as Luke guffaws below him. “You try being a royalty, you’d feel the same way.”

“Been on the road for a while, sire,” Luke giggles, he giggles very adorably, he might add. “So how old are you?”

“Has anyone told you not to go around ask princes and princesses how old they are?” Michael shakes a hand—bad move. He loses his balance and falls to his doom.

 

Or it would have been if not for Luke’s fast reflexes.

 

“Careful, Prince Michael,” Luke sounds solemn for once. “Towers tend to be tall.”

“I’ve noticed,” Michael tries to ignore the fact that they’re holding hands, one of them nearly dying or not, and that _cannot_ be the cause of Luke blushing.

“Your age,” Luke sounds firm, just like his— _stop right there_.

“Or?”

“I drop you,” Luke grins evilly.

“I’m guessing… eighteen?” He claws towards the wall in effort to go back at scaling down the tower. “I mean, it was weeks before my eighth birthday when they locked me up way up top so… I should be eighteen. Actually, I _am_ eighteen, since they do fireworks on my birthday.”

“Bravo for your counting skills,” Luke pushes him towards the wall, letting him latch onto the grooves of the stones. “Now, we’re going to be running far, far away from this place so we need supplies when we’re on the ground again…”

 

-

 

“You stubborn ass,” Luke growls as Michael says ‘no’ again. “It’s just a fucking brooch!”

“That has my family crest on it!” Michael hisses for the—oh Luke can guess—twentieth time. “They will recognise the royal crest anywhere!”

“Not in the black market they won’t,” Luke smirks.

 

Ten minutes of arguing later, Luke drags Michael to the black market, the only place where he needn’t his cowl to hide his face.

 

“Hey, Louis,” he greets his long-time friend. “I need to sell something… Rather expensive.”

“Oh please, our benefactor is the drug lord, he has tonnes of money,” Louis rolls his eyes. “How much are you asking?”

“Fifteen thousand,” Michael speaks up. Luke knows for a fact that his hair would be light shade of blue if it wasn’t covered with a hood. Calum the Kitty licks his paw as he watches the humans around him. “No less than that.”

“The crest on that lass accessory looks familiar,” one of Louis’ friends, whose name Luke can’t be bothered to remember, remarks. “Seen it somewhere.”

“Oh hush it,” Michael looks proper angry. “I can always go to a _real_ jeweller’s shop and–”

 

Louis points a knife at Michael’s throat.

 

 _Oh fuck, he can’t do that to a prince! Wait, Michael’s been locked up in the tower for ten years, I doubt anyone recognises him, UGH_.

 

“Now, now,” Louis taunts, studying the crest. “This has to be some higher-up’s crest for a price _that_ high, am I right?”

“So?” Michael looks like he wants to murder Louis with his look. “Fifteen, or nothing.”

 

The way Michael puts power into his words, it’s like the first day Luke met him, when he sounds regal.

 

Almost like a king, he might add.

 

“Okay, fine,” Louis seems to have done the right calculations. “But I must ask… Luke, privacy please.”

“What?” He hisses at the merchant (in a way?).

“Is he the prince of Ichenheim?” Louis asks in the tone of asking weather, or the colour of the shirt of a cute boy passing by, _not_ something really grave. “C’mon, Niall is really good at differentiating normal, fake crests from a royal one.”

“I didn’t snag a prince,” Luke rolls his eyes to look convincing. “And you know I rarely visit this kingdom, how in hell would I even know where he lives?”

“That’s the thing,” Louis purrs. “No one knows where Prince Michael is.”

“How are you so sure? Most princes and princesses are guarded in their respective castles,” _stop lying, Louis won’t do you any harm._ “And even if–”

“I’ll let you go for now, my dear friend,” Louis’ ice-blue eyes shine wickedly. Loudly, he adds: “Alright, fifteen-thousand silver coins is all you need, right?”

 

-

 

Michael hadn’t much practise with reading people’s lips, but he can guess where this merchant was getting at. It’s not everyday someone shows up with a brooch that holds the royal crest, and asks for a lot of money. He fiddles with his hood as the other merchant studies him.

 

“You don’t look like much,” the dark blond comments. “I don’t see why Luke would hold you at ransom.”

“Ransom?” Calum hisses beside him. “What makes you think I’m his hostage?”

“How did he get you to sell your only mark of the royals?” Niall arches a brow. “I may not be around here, but I do know that the King and Queen have one son… a crowned Prince who disappeared from the public’s eye ten years ago…”

“What are you suggesting here?” Michael swallows thickly.

“Prince Michael,” Niall starts, only to be interrupted by Luke’s heavy footsteps. “We’ll meet again.”

 

“How did you even persuade Louis?” Luke hisses at him as he weighs the pouches containing their money. “Louis hates acting like a subordinate.”

“My regal aura?” Michael checks the scale reading the right weight. “C’mon, let’s get the horses and set our route.”

“Do you know how much horses cost?” Luke sounds incredulous. “At least a thousand for a good colt, you idiot.”

“Oh bully you,” Michael rolls his eyes. “We’ll still have thirteen-thousand for food and inns, not to mention I can sell other items.”

“True.”

 

_Two hours on horses_

 

“My dick hurts from all the horseback-riding,” Michael complains, with Calum perched on his shoulder. “Why didn’t we get a carriage again?”

“Because that means one extra mouth to feed,” Luke replies from about five yards behind him. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“When I was seven, my tutor took me on a ride to the meadow just outside the kingdom’s borders,” Michael retorts. “There’s a brook, and a little shack, we can rest by. You can try to hunt, if you’d like.”

“Oh yeah, gotta make use of the bow and quiver-full of arrows we got at the weaponry,” Luke sounds bored. “Or we can make you the bait for a wild boar or something and throw a spear at it, your choice.”

“Do I look like a damsel in distress?” Michael sounds like a proper king, except, well, they’re in the fucking woods. “As soon as we’re at the meadows, you’re going off hunting.”

“Yes, sire.”

 

_Some hours later near dusk_

 

“You aren’t a bad cook,” Michael giggles as Luke stirs the pot. “Given we’re about to eat rabbit, take it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but as a _traveller_ , I’m used to all sorts of meat,” Luke’s eyes twitch. _Oh God, he was about to roll his fucking eyes at_ me _._ “Would you like a roasted quail, sire?”

“You’re improper,” Michael growls. “And hurry up, I don’t want to–”

 

His heart quickens at the start of the Transformation. It’s like his body is anticipating the change of anatomy, a warning in a way. His hands shrink first, to a size fitting a girl about the age of sixteen. (He guesses. She?) He can feel his hair brushing his shoulder, probably lilac or mauve from the incoming bouts of panic. God, he hates his curse. His height lessens just a bit, two or three inches, thank the Lord above, and his feet stay relatively the same.

 

“I’m ugly,” Michael mumbles, his trousers feeling baggy against his female body. “And you had to witness this horrid thing.”

“You’re beautiful,” Luke breathes out. “You were when I first saw you, you still are.”

“Lies!” Anger boils inside of her. She hates the fact that she’s a girl, not a guy. “My face hasn’t changed one bit, how am I any competition to princesses out there? Someday in the future, I’ll marry someone, and they’ll realise what a freak I am!”

 

Michael would’ve said more, obscene, just to point out the faults, when Luke’s lips descend to her own. It was vile, being touched like this, but part of him liked this, how dominant Luke was being with her. A sound she wasn’t all too familiar with escapes from her lips, which seems to please Luke. Luke presses their chests together, a crushing embrace to match their fiery kiss.

 

“Fuck off,” Michael hisses once her brain starts to function again. “You can’t kiss me whenever you feel like it.”

“That’s how most kisses work,” Luke doesn’t seem so fazed by rejection. “You’re a great kisser, if that helps.”

 

Michael slaps Luke across his face.

 

-

 

Four days after the kissing incident, Michael is _still_ ignoring Luke. It hurts his ego greatly, but he can’t do jackshit about it either. They’re still at the meadows, with Luke hunting and cooking, and Michael sulking and moaning about everything. They don’t talk to each _other_ , but he hears the prince talking to Calum sometimes like: “Do you think we should tell him?” “Meow.” “That’d better have been a no, mister.”

What was that supposed to mean? The crowned prince/princess of Ichenheim was going crazy from being locked up in a tower for so long? He sure should make a note for the mentor Michael had as a child.

 

“I’ve decided,” Michael calls out from the shack, Calum trotting to her side. “You deserve to know the truth.”

“I’m all willing,” Luke goes with his usual flirting, which is greatly ignored by Michael since he _doesn’t_ know what flirting means. “Okay, go.”

“Calum is a chimera,” Michael says the name like it’s nothing. “Only thing is that he lacks powers to actually transform at will at any given time.”

“Weren’t chimeras hunted to extinction?” Luke doesn’t know much about magical beasts, but from what he’s heard all around the kingdoms he’s been to, chimeras are just as bad as dragons. “Oh…”

“Yup, he’s to be kept as a secret,” Calum rubs his head against Michael’s leg. “Before you ask, I found out he’s a frigging chimera sort of accidentally.”

Luke gives a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

“It was dusk and probably one of the first nights at the tower,” Michael shudders at the memory. _I can keep you safe._ “At that time, they let me wonder around the tower, and I walked into a room that was hidden underground. I was surprised to find a kitten stuck in a crack, so I decided to help him. In the same room, there was a note saying _‘subject 004: Calum_ ’ so I thought that was his name. Probably is, and I did think about why he’d be a ‘subject 004’. Wouldn’t that mean there are more? Days after days, I got bored of the tower. I couldn’t exactly play fetch with Calum and then he started yowling out of nowhere one night. He started acting weird, like he was in pain or confused. His fur started to ruffle and that’s when I knew that he was going through a transformation. Human or not, the symptoms are similar and before I knew it, there was a baby dragon in my room. I asked him to change into a kitten so I can cuddle without him smothering me with his fiery breath and whatnot, but he stayed that way until a week later. I figured on my own that he couldn’t change at will, or very often, at least.”

“Cute story, when do we kiss?” Luke ventures, met by Calum’s impressive growl. “Even he’s anti us.”

“Oh suck it.”

 

Luke blushes hard at the comment.

 

“Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like that, you pervert!” Michael is as equally as flushed as Luke is, his hair dark shade of blue. “Get out!”

“But I like it here,” Luke counters. “And what’s your natural hair colour?”

“Why do you ask?” Michael growls, he literally growls like a beast.

“I always see your hair switching colour back and forth between your emotions so I never really see it,” _does that mean_ I _make you feel those?_ “So tell me.”

“Blond, you’ve seen it once or twice,” Michael clears his throat. “Didn’t you say you were going to take me to places?”

 

-

 

Next day, they pack up everything and saddle up their horses. Michael is riding a black mare whilst Luke is riding a golden brown one. They don’t speak much, other than what seems like Luke having an internal monologue. Could be something important like _‘what can I get for lunch?’_ or _‘how do I win–_

 _Win whose heart_? Michael is confused by his own brain. _I don’t want—I don’t even like his kisses! He kisses the prince of Ichenheim without permission and I’m supposed to like those kisses?_

 

“Aw, Prince Michael is having a hard time,” the way Luke says it is… suggestive, to say the least. “I think he needs a wee bit of help with solving it.”

“Stop it whilst you’re ahead,” Michael orders like he would a subject.

_–slightly tanned hands running up and down his chest as they start into each other’s eyes, blue into green. Trust is shared between them as Luke smiles, dipping his head down to capture Michael’s waiting lips with his own. The kiss is perfect, and this moment is filled with love and magic. At the end, they both know that–_

 

“One true love is the only one that you get,” Michael says out loud as he slips out of his daydream. He won’t deny that he might have some feelings for Luke, but he won’t confirm it either. “Lucas?”

“‘ _So don’t stop, no stopping yet. What if one true love is the only one that you get?’”_ Luke quotes the couplet perfectly. “Where have you heard that?”

“From my tutor,” suspicions rolls off everywhere. “Ashton said that a lot.”

“It’s a saying from where I was born,” Luke looks troubled. “I haven’t heard anyone say it ever since I left the kingdom.”

“Ashton travelled a lot before settling down in Ichenheim,” Michael shrugs. “So are you?”

“Am I what?” _I caught him off-guard, good_.

“You were somehow fated to meet me at the tower, heavily spelled to keep people out,” Michael frowns at the oddity. “You shouldn’t have been allowed to find me, in fact, you shouldn’t even be alive. Any intruders will be poisoned by a spell.”

“Unless we were meant to meet each other,” the horses _very_ conveniently stopped so that they’re side by side. “Let me.”

 

Michael lets Luke kiss him and this time, he can feel the electrifying sensations rolling down his spine.

 

-

 

Luke moans into the kiss, their _real_ first kiss, and Michael copies the sound. Their horses are just raking their hooves into the dirt, as if knowing what’s going on. He smiles and pulls away after a quick peck.

“We should stop for the night,” he suggests when he hears galloping.

 _Oh shit_.

 

“Prince Michael!” The voice sounds worried, but relieved at the same time. Why? “Prince Michael! We were notified you left your tower!”

“Was I supposed to stay there until I was grey and frail?” Michael sounds very furious, his hair bright shade of red. “Tell me, Ash, why did you let them do it?”

“You know my answer, sire,” Ashton replies. Luke takes the sweet time to drink in the physique of the tutor Michael seemed to have been so infatuated with. Nothing was really special, really, long dark blond hair tied into a ponytail, wearing scrubs of any royal attendee. “And I see you’ve found a companion.”

“I want him to come with me,” Michael snaps his fingers.

 

-

 

Michael chamber is fucking huge, larger than any other _houses_ he’s been to. Hell, this is easily larger than the inn he once robbed with his friends. No one asks anything about Calum, who just meows and rubs his head against the guards’ legs.

 

“You’re a fucking prince,” Luke starts, “but you can’t act like one worth a damn.”

“Well excuse me, Hemmings,” Michael rolls his eyes. “I have been away from my home for a decade, longer than I have been living here. And as for Ashton–”

“You were, what, eight when you left?” Luke growls. “You couldn’t have loved him.”

 _The way I want to_ , the words are spoken silently, heavy and loud in the air.

“Luke–” whatever it was Michael was going to say, he decides against it and captures Luke’s lips with his, the force of his movement causing Luke to fall backwards. Michael doesn’t look like he knows what possessed him to do it, or maybe he does, yeah, but he keeps kissing and kissing Luke until they both have to pull away for air. Luke is smiling, triumphantly, since the prince finally gave in. He leans up to recapture those perfect pink lips, cupping his face. He doesn’t mind being on the bottom when he _is_ one, so as their kisses grow more passionate, Luke takes the incentive to remove his trousers. He hasn’t been with a lot of people, three at the most, and he knows Michael never had the chance… he wants this to be special for his Prince.

“Wet your fingers, Mikey,” Luke instructs the prince. “And push them against my, um.”

“Your ass,” Michael is blushing, and the colour matches the dark, faded shade of red his hair is. Or maybe it’s pink. “Okay, sex can’t be complicated.”

“But our love is,” things click together. _“What colour is your hair when you’re in love?”_ “Your hair is pink because you love me back?”

“I’m not a complete moron,” Michael growls and flips Luke onto his stomach, making him let out one pathetic yelp. “I’ll show you how dominant I can be, baby.”

 

-

 

Michael doesn’t know why he’s doing—and saying—half the stuff he is. Calum trotted out of his room when things started getting heated between him and Luke and now? Luke is telling him what to do. And as one of the owners of the castle, he snapped.

 

“I’ll show you how dominant I can be, baby,” Michael purrs into Luke’s ear. “Why don’t you present yourself to me, yeah?”

“That’s not being dominant,” Luke scoffs, his words muffled by the expensive pillows imported from other kingdom. “Try harder.”

 

Michael ruts his growing hard-on against the cleft of Luke’s bare ass.

 

“Okay, point proven,” Luke huffs out. “Now, I think I’ve watched better performance with my buddies and whores going at it.”

“Don’t compare me to such low-class bitches,” Michael spanks Luke’s cheek, earning a throaty moan. “You like that, baby?”

“A turn-on,” Luke admits in a small voice. “But I still need to be prepped.”

“I want to tease you, baby,” Michael taunts, his hand splayed against Luke’s pert little ass. “You said you wanted to be fingered? Show me _how_.”

 

A breath catches in Luke’s throat, as if realising he’s in deep trouble. Michael is a virgin, yes, but he knows the basics from places. Luke whines before traipsing his fingers down to his hole, circling his forefinger around his own rim. He cranes his head to the side to look at Michael, his blue eyes full of desire and love. He slips his finger in, eyes clenched shut when he crooks his finger. Michael dips his head down to kiss all over Luke’s backside—shoulders, shoulder blades, the small dip in the middle of his back, kissing up and down the spine, and of course, short, teasing kisses near the ass area.

 

“Please da—Michael,” Luke moans out, now having two of his fingers pumping in and out of his entrance. “Please finger me.”

“Is that what you want?” Michael slaps Luke’s hand away, three poised at the hole. “Do you want me to rough you up and take you until we can’t form coherent thoughts?”

Luke mewls.

“That’s a yes,” Michael takes his hand away and unbuckles his trousers. “Don’t move.” He tells Luke as he undresses himself. He feels exposed, naked before Luke’s eyes—figuratively, since his face is down at the moment—and vulnerable.

 _I can’t think like that at this moment,_ Michael chastises himself as he spits on his hand and slicks himself up. _I love Luke and nothing will change that_.

 

“Turn around, love,” Michael asks Luke; the other lad does that. “I love you so much, Luke.”

“I love you too, Mikey,” Luke gasps when Michael starts to push in. He must admit, it’s tight and feels almost unnatural. _God, do gay couples have to go through this every time?_ Luke moans, as if being filled up is actually pleasurable for him. Michael gives a few experimental thrusts, one of them landing against the pleasure spot from earlier. He smirks and aims for that spot, garnering loud moans from his lover, his only one.

 

“I love you,” Luke reiterates as he spurts between their bodies. Michael really haven’t thought about it, but he soon forgets that as he, too, releases, only that he does that inside of Luke.

 

“So,” Michael grins after he pulls out. “Wanna take a bath together?”

 

-

 

Luke wakes up, his body tangled up with his favourite person’s, Michael. He can remember the details of his last night, if the soreness in his ass isn’t much of an indication. He turns around to peck Michael’s lips, in effort to wake him up.

“Ugh,” is what the prince says.

“C’mon, it’s me,” Luke rolls his eyes. “And if you don’t wake up now—oh shit, why are they here?”

 

A dozen of guards march into Michael’s royal chamber and literally forces him to wake up. It’s hard to stay asleep when someone has cold metal gloves on your shoulders.

 

“I’m the Prince of Ichenheim, what are you doing?” Michael snaps at the guard who’s holding him.

“Lemme explain, sire,” Ashton’s voice rings out. “Ah, I see your hair is red from anger, good. Guards, take him back to the tower.”

 

Michael’s wide, shocked and indignant eyes are the last image of him for Luke.

 

“Why did you do that?” Luke growls at the tutor.

“Oh, it’s something I’d like to discuss later…”

**Author's Note:**

> The original ending was
> 
> "but one true love can cure the curse and dark magic he was born with" but the dark magic bit gives me enough plot ideas for a sequel, SORRY.


End file.
